المرأة بقلاوة - BAKLAVA GOT LEGS скачать в хорошем качестве

المرأة بقلاوة - BAKLAVA GOT LEGS

In our Lebanese-Arab streets and patriarchal system, women are nicknamed “Baklava”. “Baklava” by definition is a type of Arab sweet made from: puff pastry, butter, sugar, walnuts, almonds, among other things. So, how does it happen? A girl, a lady, or a woman (Because there’s a difference between them) passes by a car driven by a guy who tells her: “So I see Baklava can walk down the street now?” To make a long story short... I will slow down to make it clear. This “Baklava” that you speak of and that sweetens your life, is terrified of you day and night sunrise to sunset. Walking… in the neighborhood streets or in the entrance of her building because you’re a threat. This “Baklava” that you speak of and that loves you avoids you in the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, the bedroom, because you’re a threat. Who took you out of school? My fiancé This “Baklava” that you speak of and that is all your life, avoids your conversations, activities, watching Turkish soap operas because you are the threat. What’s the harshest thing you ever told her that you now regret? I’ll answer: I am the “Baklava” that you speak of. I give and I give and what do you do? You take, even by force. I protect you with my body and what do you do? You look for my body. I save you with my soul from your imagination and what do you do? You follow me like my shadow. This “Baklava” you speak of is your lunch, your coffee, your voice, your “Fairuz”, your “Sabah”, your holiday, your faith, your security, your safety, your mother, your heart. So what do you do? Wait – I’m not done. I want nothing from you. Nothing at all. But when I give to you, look at me, see me, feel and reciprocate. I am a Safekeeper. What about you? Safety for the Safekeepersese-Arab streets and patriarchal system, women are nicknamed “Baklava”. “Baklava” by definition is a type of Arab sweet made from: puff pastry, butter, sugar, walnuts, almonds, among other things. So, how does it happen? A girl, a lady, or a woman (Because there’s a difference between them) passes by a car driven by a guy who tells her: “So I see Baklava can walk down the street now?” To make a long story short... I will slow down to make it clear. This “Baklava” that you speak of and that sweetens your life, is terrified of you day and night sunrise to sunset. Walking… in the neighborhood streets or in the entrance of her building because you’re a threat. This “Baklava” that you speak of and that loves you avoids you in the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, the bedroom, because you’re a threat. Who took you out of school? My fiancé This “Baklava” that you speak of and that is all your life, avoids your conversations, activities, watching Turkish soap operas because you are the threat. What’s the harshest thing you ever told her that you now regret? I’ll answer: I am the “Baklava” that you speak of. I give and I give and what do you do? You take, even by force. I protect you with my body and what do you do? You look for my body. I save you with my soul from your imagination and what do you do? You follow me like my shadow. This “Baklava” you speak of is your lunch, your coffee, your voice, your “Fairuz”, your “Sabah”, your holiday, your faith, your security, your safety, your mother, your heart. So what do you do? Wait – I’m not done. I want nothing from you. Nothing at all. But when I give to you, look at me, see me, feel and reciprocate. I am a Safekeeper. What about you? Safety for the Safekeepers